Unbound Surrender (7 page)

She held out her hands in supplication. She’d made the best play she could, been as honest as she knew how. The rest was up to him.

Stephen leaned back against the chair and looked at her. Goddamn if she wasn’t right. He was looking at this from the point of view of a man who’d been screwed. She was right about his business and he understood calculated risk. Was she worth the risk?

As if he were studying a spreadsheet, he considered her as he rolled the pen back and forth.

This wasn’t the same woman who’d run.

She’d walked back into his house and life uninvited. She’d swallowed her fear and done everything he’d demanded. And now she was standing and fighting him, for him, for them. She wasn’t backing down. “What do you want, Jessica?”

“I know we can’t go back to the way we were. I don’t expect you to marry me again anytime soon, if ever. But I’m asking for a second chance to be your sub.”

She tucked her hair nervously behind her ear. She’d stood there before him defiantly, and she’d be mortified if she knew he’d seen her tremble.

“I’m asking for one day at a time. I’m not asking for guarantees or promises. But I will tell you this, I will not run away ever again. If our relationship ends, it will be because we’ve talked about it and mutually decided to end it, without recrimination, without anger.”

“Your collar is in the closet of the master bedroom. On my tie rack. If you’re serious, you know what to do.”

He saw her shoulders collapse with relief.

She was right that their relationship may end. But he couldn’t cut it off now because he had apprehensions.

The woman he’d gagged, hooded and blindfolded was not the woman who’d dashed out his front door and asked for nothing in their divorce settlement. This woman was confident, secure, and she knew what she wanted.

She stood.

He watched her leave the room.

He heard her exchange words with Mrs. Boxley and a moment later, the housekeeper entered his office without knocking and waiting for permission.

“’Bout bloody time you got your head straight on, sir, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I do mind, Mrs. Boxley. Very much.”

“But there you go, sir, I already said so, now didn’t I?” She gave him a saucy grin before leaving the room.

Seemed the women of the household were in cahoots.

He considered moving to the parlour, but that was neutral territory. He wanted her to return to his office, if she chose to return.

He pushed away from his desk and paced, telling himself that if she changed her mind it was for the best. But he couldn’t make himself believe it. Instead, pacing was burning the nervous energy. He spun the globe in the corner, looked out the window, straightened a pile of papers on the edge of his desk.

Minutes later, he heard a soft noise and he turned towards the doorway.

She was nude, on all fours and the collar was in her mouth.

She waited for his nod before crossing the threshold. Her head downcast, she crawled to him. She raised to a kneeling position, hands behind her neck, breasts thrust slightly forward, knees farther than shoulder-width apart and leaning back just a touch. She was spread beautifully for him, wide open.

“You really are lovely.” Then, more quietly, he admitted something he hadn’t wanted to admit to either of them, until now. “I love you, Jess.”

Her eyes closed momentarily.

He walked over and took the collar from her mouth. “What should I do with this?”

“Please, Master. Put it around my neck. I willingly submit myself to your guidance and discipline. I will do everything I can to earn this honour.”

This time, she sounded like she believed what she said.

She swept her hair from her neck, waiting patiently.

He thought about it another few seconds. Accepting her submission wasn’t just a bunch of words to him, it also meant he was committing to being a good Dom. Only by being a good Dom could she be the best possible sub.

“Please collar me, Master.”

Undone, he moved in and fastened the leather in place. She dropped her hair, and touched the thin leather strip. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she lowered herself to kiss his foot. Looking up at him, she said, “I love you.”

He was unable to wait a moment longer. It was enough. What they had was enough. He gathered her in his arms and carried her up the stairs and into the master bedroom. “This time, I want your hands only on me,” he said, lowering her on top of the bed. He didn’t take the time to pull back the bedspread or arrange the pillows. They’d had sex less than an hour before, and he was already hard, his body demanding he posses her.

He shucked his clothes and reached for a condom.

She spread her legs in invitation. “I want you.”

“We’ll work on your speaking without permission,” he promised. “Later.” Much later. He slid into her warm, moist heat.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he heard her sigh.

He had her, in his arms, in his bed, in his life. Her surrender had been her idea, not his, and this time, that was going to be what made the difference. He hadn’t pushed, she offered.

He kissed her with unrestrained passion of his own. “Welcome home,” he said.